Cabin Fever
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Carole, at work, wins a raffle to go on vacation to a ski resort in Colorado. However, Paul Karofsky wins the same thing at his workplace for his own family. And as it happens... the two families must share a cabin. .:. a five-part Kurtofsky fic.
1. Part I: Upon Arrival

**A/N: The original idea was given to me by Yoshi12370 on Tumblr and deviantART. Their idea was to have the Hummel-Hudsons and the Karofskys share a villa in some beach-type retreat for a vacation as per mistake of the agency/company that rents out the villas.**

**However, I decided instead after some brainstorming with a friend to have them share a cabin at a ski lodge in a different location, because oftentimes there are duplex-like or even mini-hotel-like cabins at ski lodges where you knowingly are going to share it with strangers and it makes for a cheaper, more fun experience. I know a cousin who did this, and wound up making a friend at such a place, although they did it up in the Dells of Wisconsin. But for this, I chose Colorado. I dunno, I've always wanted to go there, and I thought that would be a likely place for an epic cabin-oriented ski resort.**

**And now, without further explanation, I give you a five-part Kurtofsky ficlet. ;D**

**Extra note: this is AU after 2x15, "Sexy," since that's as far as I've seen up to prior to starting this miniature project.**

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_Part I: Upon Arrival_

It's supposed to be the vacation of a lifetime.

Through a raffle drawing at Carole's workplace, the Hummel-Hudson family won an all-paid expenses trip to a ski resort lodge in Colorado, right on the Rockies. The only thing they'll have to pay for is transportation and any extra things they'd like to buy from shops on the resort and in town, but other than that, they're allowed full access to a stocked refrigerator in their cabin, as well as meals at the main building of the resort where they are free to use the game rooms, spa treatments, and all of the skiing and snowboarding and ice skating activities available. There's even a hot tub in the cabin they're staying at, as well as a pool at the main building.

It has everything: snow, fun, and relaxation. Everything Kurt needs after a little over a year at Dalton, and after all the bullying and homework and non-self-expression due to lack of personal clothes. After all of the stress of Sectionals, Regionals, and Nationals. After all of it, Kurt is _beyond _ready for some R&R, particularly the sort which includes a cozy fireplace in a wintry cabin and, best of all, the added bonus of a free-access _spa._ Kurt is going to spoil himself, and all because he knows he's worth it.

Finn is pretty excited to go, too; he can't wait to try his hand at skiing and snowboarding, and all those manly, sporty things. He wants to ride the ski lift, wants to flirt with some girls since he's currently single after messing up so badly with Quinn and Rachel repeatedly, and he's prepared to go all out at the all-you-can-eat nightly buffet at the resort's main building.

Carole, like Kurt, can't wait for that Jacuzzi and spa. She also is a secret lover of skiing, ever since she went years ago to a place in Minnesota as a teen. And her husband is just happy to see all of his family happy, and is a little glad to be free of the summer heat in the garage, away from fixing all those cars, long enough to clear his head.

But, the offer warns, this is so cheap – mostly free, that is – because they're trying out their new open duplex cabins in the forest within the resort's limits. They are essentially conducting an experiment, using company raffles as the outlet for it, to see if it'll be a big hit of getting a cabin but sharing it with strangers. It can be a thrill, they say; it can be a way to bring people together.

Except there's always a problem with blind grouping, whether it's having a teacher pick groups in class or a ski lodge placing two families in the same cabin, it doesn't matter, because people will be people, and people can get on each other's nerves.

Although the Hummel-Hudsons don't mind. Why should they? They are four quite easygoing people, with the exception of Kurt on occasion. Aside from his diva moments, they are kind, caring souls who can get along with just about anybody.

Right?

_XXX_

The Karofskys don't get many lucky breaks.

If Paul gets a bonus, it's a rare treat. If they're able to talk the school board out of Dave's expulsion, it's him being cut some slack. And if they happen to win anything by raffle or otherwise, it's sheer chance.

But, by the grace of God, they do win. They get an all-expenses-paid trip to a fancy-smancy ski lodge up in Colorado, with some sort of duplex setting of a cabin, and the like. On the offer, it says that they're permitted two weeks of stay at no cost. Two weeks of vacation in a chilly place in the middle of an Ohio summer? Count them in, all three of them.

Dave is the most excited, actually. He figures it'll be a related time where he can hopefully come out to his parents without any consequences, since they keep pestering him about never dating and turning down each girl's offer to him. It's gonna be rough, but at least Dave accepts it about himself for now. At least he knows who he is, finally. It took a while, but he knows, now. And it's somewhat of a comfort to at least _know._

Plus, seeing some Colorado boys might be a good way to take his mind off of Hummel, since he keeps thinking how Kurt might return to McKinley for his senior year, and Dave isn't sure how he's going to deal with that now that he's accepted his sexuality to himself; it wouldn't be right to go back to the bullying, but it wouldn't feel right to simply ignore Kurt, either. Not after that kiss that Dave still thinks about occasionally.

Sighing, Dave gets packing for the trip. He takes out his hockey duffel bag – hardly used since sophomore year when he had been on the team – and he fills it with all his snow gear and ice skating gear, and he plans on using that ice rink to his advantage. He might be a little rusty after nearly an entire year of non-play, he he's sure there will be a few people to practice with.

And then there's the matter of clothes. It's for two weeks, right? But there's a washer and dryer in the cabin. So he could only bring about a week's worth of clothes and then wash them, right?

Unsure, he goes and asks his mother. She nods absentmindedly, and tells him that he could even bring less if he wanted to; it depended on how often he planned on doing his laundry, and how warm he wanted to be, since layers are always a benefit when one is up in the mountains.

Shrugging again, Dave returns to his room to pack, and winds up bringing four pairs of lounge pants, three pairs of jeans, and about six shirts. And then enough boxers for about five school days. Whatever. He tosses in his swim trunks for good measure, and one set of long johns in case he feels like skiing. Over all, he has enough clothes between his suitcase and duffel bag to put on a runway show. Not that he knows anything about modeling at all. Nope.

_XXX_

Meanwhile, across town, Kurt is also packing early. He plans fourteen outfits, packs them all between three suitcases, but then gets snapped at by his father for bringing way too much and winds up assembling seven outfits and seven sleepwear sets, and then, of course, his (highly fashionable) snow gear and (adorable) swim wear. At this point, he's down to two suitcases, since he decides to go as far as to pack all of his toiletries into a special mini-bag and tuck it away into the less-full case.

Finn is a disaster waiting to happen when it comes to preparing for a trip, so Carole and Kurt take it upon themselves to do Finn the favor of packing for him. Kurt packs less for his stepbrother, insisting that Finn can do his laundry while they're there. Carole doesn't protest. She helps her son out with a few more things before dragging Kurt away to help her pack for herself and Burt (who over-packs like Kurt, surprisingly; he seems to think of too many possibilities for needing clothes, like ripping or staining them or something).

In the end, the Hummel-Hudsons are finally ready for their trip, and the timing couldn't be more perfect, because they're going to catch their flight the morning after next.

_XXX_

The rush to the airport is Dave's least favorite part. He detests the scans and searches and checkpoints, and mutters to himself how 9/11/01 made all of this even worse, and wonders why people can't be nice to one another and voice war and terrorism alike, his own meager acts of violence toward other students aside, since he really never did anything worse than shoves into lockers and small tussles against people like Evans.

But once Dave's on the plane, he doesn't mind it so much. The plane is packed tightly in second-class, and there's always a baby crying somewhere in the rows of seats, but he has his cell phone for texting and his PSP for gameplay, and that's about all he cares about.

Elsewhere, apart from the Karofskys entirely, the Hummel-Hudsons are on another flight headed for the same place, but at a much earlier time. While Dave settles into his seat and awaits take-off and pulls out his PSP, Kurt is in the air, reading a magazine and trying to keep his equilibrium settled as he chats idly with Carole and allows Finn to sleep on his shoulder.

The flight is comfortable, even in second-class, and Kurt doesn't mind it in the least. By the time they arrive, Finn had added a good three hours of sleep to his minimal night's rest (the poor boy was overexcited like a kid on Christmas Eve), and Kurt had caught up on all of the most recent fashions and celebrity gossip.

The Karofskys land approximately an hour later. While the Hummel-Hudsons unbeknownst to the Karofskys tour the town surrounding the resort, the Karofskys themselves get settled in the cabin immediately.

"I suppose the other family we're supposed to share with hasn't stopped by yet," Paul shrugs as he brings his and his wife's suitcases into one of the master bedrooms. The Cabin is laid out quite nicely: the two master bedrooms are on opposite sides, upstairs, and descend two pine staircases (almost everything is thick wood on the inside, save for the brick fireplace in the front center) and meet in a common living room that flows into the common kitchen. There are two bathrooms, one on each side upstairs, and one spare bedroom besides the master. And through the kitchen there is an attached deck, closed in with windows, that holds chairs and the Jacuzzi inside.

It's a nice place; a _really _nice place. Sure, there are a few stereotypical taxidermy animals here and there in the corners or on the walls, and sure, there isn't much carpet except for upstairs, but the place is warm and cozy and rustic and charming, and Paul's wife is in love with it, and Dave seems oddly content about it, and it's recluse compared to the other cabins on the ski resort's property, so who cares?

Dave is the first to plop down on the large, thick, forest green sofa and flick on the widescreen plasma TV hanging on the wall. He slides off the couch and scoots closer to the fireplace as he flips through the extended cable.

"This place rocks," Dave remarks with a grin. He glances over his shoulder at his parents. "Seriously, I'm so glad you won this trip, Dad. I feel good about this."

"Well, I'm glad, David. You've been a little down lately, so I was hoping this would raise your spirits."

Dave brushes off the comment and shrugs. "Well, you didn't hope in vain; I love it here already. I can't wait to go out tonight and see all the stuff they have in the main building, and then go outside tomorrow for all of their cool winter-sport stuff."

"Sounds like a plan," Dave's mother agrees with a smile. She moves into the kitchen and whips out of the bags the brought in there her homemade cocoa mix. She makes a cup for herself, brings one to her son, and offers her husband a mug. He declines, so she shrugs and says that she'll leave it as a peace offering for when the other family shows up.

The three recline backward, watch the hours fly by, and try to shake off their jetlag feelings.

And then the second family arrives.

They unlock the door and step inside, small gasps emitting from them. Paul Karofsky makes it his duty to go and greet the second family, curious to see how they are and where they came from originally.

Imagine Paul's surprise when he sees his mechanic.

"Burt? Burt Hummel?" he frowns lightly, not sure what to make of this, because the last he'd recently seen of the man was when they were on separate sides of a principal's office, vouching for their sons.

"Paul Karofsky?" Burt looks caught off-guard, and a little distracted, as he drops the suitcases in his arms and his wife and sons file in behind him. Kurt stiffens and goes white when he spies the familiar robust face, and in the distance behind him, spies another all-too-familiar mug.

"Fancy that," Burt mutters, standing up straight and unzipping his coat. "We're rooming with a fellow Lima family. Well, as it stands, our last memories of each other are a little iffy…"

"But you are my mechanic. I don't trust anyone else with my car. And our sons attend the same school and grade, so we can't let any bad blood flow between us. For these next two weeks, I propose we be as civil as possible and act like one big happy group," Paul says monotonously but reassuringly.

Mrs. Karofsky nods in agreement and steps forward. She looks a little older than Carole; in fact, she and her husband both look a little older than the Hummel-Hudson couple, despite the fact that they all have children the same age. "Hello, dear. I don't believe we've met," she says politely, sweetly. And it isn't an act.

Carole smiles and yanks off her gloves before giving the brunette woman's hands a shake. She's slimmer than her husband and son, and she's shorter even than Carole. She wears an honest face, heart-shaped, and her eyes and curly hair are exactly like Dave's.

"I'm Carole," she says.

"I'm Lacey," Mrs. Karofsky replies gently. "Do you like hot cocoa? I think there's enough for the four of you, if not at least two of you."

"You're so sweet; I'd love some cocoa, thank you," Carole replies with a smile. She turns to face the two gaping teenage boys behind her. "By the looks on your faces," she says, putting her hands on her hips while Lacey goes into the kitchen to spoon out a mug of the chocolaty beverage for Carole, "I'd say you both think this is going to be awful. But we're here to have fun, remember? And you don't have to be best friends, since I remember names and I know that boy over there hasn't been the best to either of you, least of all Kurt. But I want the three of you to play nice, please; we're on vacation! We'll be so busy we'll hardly need to interact unless we want to." She glances over at where her husband and Mr. Karofsky have begun conversing as they walk toward the living room couch. "Burt?"

"Yes?" he answers, glancing back.

"This situation… it's a little rough for the boys, but it should be fine, right?"

Because Carole doesn't have any qualms with Lacey or Paul. She knows that the bullying their son did isn't entirely their fault due to lack of parenting or anything; she knows that sometimes, no matter how hard you try to raise a teenage boy, they rebel or get aggressive or, like Finn a little over a year ago, they use offensive slurs and lose their temper and yell at a classmate-turning-stepbrother. It happens. And in her heart, Carole truly believes that if she can befriend this couple, she can somehow show the three teenage boys between them that getting along is possible and that everybody is _human_.

Huffing with resentment, detestation, frustration, and irritation, Kurt drags his bags fully into the heart of the cabin before sharply jerking his head in the direction of the staircases. Tensely, all the while making sure not to glance at the teenage Karofsky, he inquires, "Which side is ours?"

"Oh! We took the rooms on the right. You and your family may have the ones on the left. They're all the same, though," Lacey calls as she trots back into the room and helps Carole out of her puffy coat before smiling and handing her a mug of cocoa.

It's too much. Kurt can't stand seeing the adults already getting along so well when all he can think about is how their son tormented him for so incredibly long. Grunting in disgust, Kurt traipses up the stairs on the left. He enters the master bedroom, realizes that it's meant for the parents, and proceeds to the other bedroom across from the bathroom. Look like him and Finn are sharing. But there are two twin beds, so that isn't so bad. He also notes a couch, television set, and a dresser and a closet.

Kurt unpacks all of his clothes, helps Finn when the boy shows up ten minutes later and tries to do the same, and he waits until Finn returns downstairs before he breaks. Kurt plops down onto the bed he claimed and screams into the pillow and mattress.

This is a tragedy! A debacle and a tragedy, because this is wrong and appalling and sad. How can this be? How, out of all of the odds across the nation, across _Ohio,_ even, did this come to be? The Karofskys and the Hummel-Hudsons? Under one roof for half a month?

This is supposed to be relaxing. This is supposed to be fun. But how can it be, when all Kurt can think about is his bully being closer than ever, and even more of a threat to his existence?

How can it be enjoyable whatsoever when all Kurt can think about is how Karofsky can bury him alive in the snow or slash his throat with some ice skates or burn his body in the fireplace, all without the happy, happy parents noticing! And Finn won't do anything. He said he would, but he hadn't before, and he looks like he doesn't want to get involved while on vacation, the selfish bastard.

Kurt groans and lets a few self-pitying tears fall. Karofsky might not go so far as to carry out that death threat, and he might not shove Kurt since there aren't any lockers nearby, but he can still harass Kurt and he can still call Kurt names, and _shitfuckdamn, _what if Karofsky gets the bright idea to _kiss _Kurt again?

The soprano freezes in place, fists clenching into the bed sheets.

This is going to be the worst vacation _ever. _

And no one else is going to think so except for Kurt (and maybe Dave).


	2. Part II: A Certain Affliction

_Part II: A Certain Affliction_

Great. Fucking _fantastic._ How the Hell is Dave supposed to take his mind off of Hummel when Hummel is going to be around – very close, within the same fucking _cabin_ – for a solid two weeks of Dave's summer vacation?

Things were easier, before, when Kurt was at Dalton; yeah, okay, so things _hurt _a lot more when Dave couldn't see Kurt each and every day and couldn't touch him anymore, but hey, at least Dave can _handle _pain. He can deal with it and dish it out; aching is nothing. But this? This is sheer _torture. _It's easier to hurt from afar; it's harder to deal with pain that so fucking_ nearby. _

And yeah, it pisses Dave off; why wouldn't it? This was going to be awesome! The trip of a lifetime! A chance to hone his snowboarding and skiing skills and refresh his hockey drilling, and now it's all going downhill because Dave just _knows _at some point the confrontation is going to come into being, and it's going to involve them ice skating at the same time, or getting stuck on a ski lift like in the movies, or even something like running into each other at the recreational hall in the main building. At some point, things are going to get _ugly._

If they aren't already within the first day.

Dave hadn't slept all night, his mind elsewhere (mainly thinking of the above). And now it's the morning, he's fresh out of the shower, standing in his room, debating what to wear. Because depending on what he chooses to wear, that will dictate what activities he'll be doing for the day.

Sighing thickly before clearing his throat, Dave picks up his long johns and snow gear and slips it on. Snowboarding it is, then. He hasn't done it in a while, so it should prove to be a pleasant challenge to keep his mind off of homosexual things. Or, rather, one homosexual in particular, and then his own sexuality problems.

Because he still wants to come out to his parents, and it'd still be the perfect opportunity to do so whilst on this trip, but he can't very well carry out this plan while Hummel is around; any of the Hummels, for that matter. It'll have to be a time when everyone else is somewhere else and it's only Dave and his parents. But just when will _that _be?

Sighing for a second time, Dave sneaks out of the house early, leaving a note for his parents, so that he can avoid any of the Hudson-Hummels. Unfortunately, this doesn't go quite according to plan, because not a quarter of an hour after starting his trek across snow grounds to the drop-off points meant for snowboarding does Dave come across Finn on a snowmobile.

"Hey, need a lift? This mountainside is a bit rough to walk everywhere on. We rented this before we came in last night, so…" Finn offers, shrugging and lifting off the sunglasses-like snow-goggles over his eyes.

Dave glances around, makes sure no one's really watching, and decides he might as well. His thighs are killing him from hiking through deep snowdrifts. With a ragged exhale, he throws a leg over the side and sits in the extra seat behind Hudson, trying to resist holding on like some woman on the back of a motorcycle.

"You might want to hold onto me," Finn says, completely shattering Dave's ideas. "I know it'll seem weird, and I'm not too comfortable with it either, but it's better than getting thrown off when we hit a bump, and much better than walking."

Rolling his eyes, Dave timidly reaches his arms around Finn's waist and tries not to think about it too much. "Fine, but you're letting me off when we're within walking distance of the snowboarding spot. I don't want anyone to see me clinging to you like some gaybo."

Finn chuckles and starts the machine up again. Wheeling out onto uncrossed snow, he replies loudly, "I know. I figured as much. Doesn't bother me, man."

And it's a good thing they have the capacity to get along, and have in the past, because otherwise this would be extremely awkward and impossible. They wind up both snowboarding for a while, weaving around one another, shouting things, smiling, even laughing. They break for a late breakfast before going for another round, easily bonding over winter sports and their amateur skills, teasing whenever one of them bails, snow getting inside their coats.

Wet and shivering, they ride back to the cabin in the afternoon.

"I-I am s-s-s-so getting in th-th-that hot juh-Jacuzzi," Finn remarks with chattering teeth. They enter the cozy, wooden cabin and pay no mind to their fathers bonding over something on the television. Their mothers are chatting over post-lunch coffee in the kitchen when they return downstairs after changing. Finn changed into his swimming trunks – Dave forces himself not to look, being well trained to do so after so many locker room encounters with the same sex – and Dave in some warm lounge wear.

"Going for a dip to warm up, sweetie?" Carole asks casually as she distracts herself from her getting-to-know-you chat with Lacey Karofsky.

"Yeah. I'm freezing. See you after about half an hour to an hour's worth of soaking," Finn replies with his arms crossed over his chest in a weak attempt at keeping his nipples from going hard. He shivers as he walks, and soon, he's slipping through the sliding glass door into the closed-off deck with Jacuzzi attached. Through the doors, Carole watches with a smile as her adorable, too-tall son leaps right into the hot water, turning on the jets as he sinks into the foam-covered water.

"He looks so content, now," Lacey muses with a smile. She leans forward to take a sip of her coffee. After a swallow, she glances up at her own son. "Aren't you going to join him?"

Dave quickly shakes his head. "Uh, no. Didn't want to get wet s'more. But, uh. Coffee looks good. There any left?"

"Plenty, in the coffee pot up there. Help yourself," Lacey answers fluidly. She continues her conversation with Carole, then, and Dave feels a little sick seeing the parents get along so well when he and Kurt have been avoiding each other since last night. It's only been a day, but Dave feels like he needs to figure something out to temporarily fix things, or else this trip is really going to be Hell.

"Is Kurt around?" Dave tries to say as lightly and casually as possible as he stirs the tiniest teaspoon-full of sugar into his coffee. He skips the cream; he doesn't always like it mugging up his coffee.

"No, I believe he's at the rec hall getting a spa treatment; something about forgetting his face moisturizer, feeling like an idiot for it, and needing to get rid of the post-plane and first-night grime," Carole answers with a short chuckle. She shakes her head, smiling. "I swear, that boy."

There's a splitting expression of half-relief, half-disappointment that suddenly rushes through Dave's chest. He nods curtly, acts like it doesn't matter where Kurt is, and retreats to his bedroom. He's tuckered out from the day, but he isn't ready to sleep yet. He isn't sure what to do, so he simply sips his coffee and flips through the channels on the medium-screen-sized television.

"This better not be the usual for this vacation," Dave grumbles to himself as he slinks down on the bed and pulls the mug closer to his lips. "Avoidance sucks." He'd rather hash it out with Hummel that do this roundabout bullshit. And besides, at some point, they will have to deal with one another like their families have been doing.

Grunting, Dave sets his empty mug over on the end table and loses interest in the TV. He rolls onto his side and rests his eyes for a minute.

XXX

Startled from some dream or another, Dave wakes to blackness outside, the clock in the room reading an ungodly hour, and the cabin quiet.

He rolls up into sitting position, his muscles sore and tense from sleeping at an awkward angle. He stifles a few pained sounds as he stretches, and with bleary eyes, he surveys the room. Someone turned off the light and TV for him, and someone drew the blankets up over his body.

It was probably his mom or dad. None of the Hudson-Hummels would venture to this hallway, and aside from that, none of them really care about him enough to do any of those things.

Yawning, Dave stands and grabs his mug off of the bedside table. He wanders out of the room and down the stairs. It's about one in the morning, but he can't sleep, not now. He already slept a good, what, seven or eight hours? That's an few hours more than his average five of sleep per day of the school week, so he feels plenty rested.

Someone else is awake, however. He can see the glow of the TV in the living room and a light on in the kitchen. He expects it to be an adult; after all, no parent can sleep well in a foreign place like this, and he knows he's caught his dad up in the wee hours more than once.

But no, as soon as he stumbles into the kitchen to put his mug away and get something to eat (he skipped dinner, of course, and now he's plenty hungry), he finds Kurt there.

Kurt jumps in his own skin at the sound of a creak in the kitchen doorway, and his shocked gaze meets Dave's sleepily similar one, and for a full moment, they simply stare at one another.

Dave is the first to come back to himself. "Evenin', Hummel. Or should I say mornin'?" he greets without a smile or humor. "What're you doing up so late?"

"Early," Kurt corrects. "I couldn't sleep. I fell asleep repeatedly at the spa, and now my body thinks it doesn't need any more rest," he relays sharply, pointedly not looking Karofsky's way as he goes about his business of making himself some chamomile tea.

"Hmph. I know how that is," Dave shrugs, and once they're both done in the kitchen, the jock follows the singer into the living room where the giant TV is on, playing some random movie from what looks like could be the late '80s or early '90s.

"Why don't you leave me alone and go back to your room, Karofsky?" Kurt says suddenly, wheeling around to face Dave, his tea miraculously not spilling as it sloshes in his cup. "I don't want to be around you."

"Well tough luck, Hummel! I can't sleep either, and I have every right to be down here as you do; this is _my _family's summer vacation, too, in case you forgot," he retorts as he moves around Kurt to sit down on the sofa. "Now I don't wanna fight. Let's just deal with each other 'til one of us is tired enough to go back to sleep, all right? 'Sides, I think I remember liking this movie. So I'm gonna watch it."

"_Fine,_" Kurt hisses bitterly, and takes his place at the opposite end of the couch as his bully. He doesn't even feel like drinking the relaxing, steaming beverage, now. With a huff, he sets it down and tries to concentrate on the film playing (with commercials, unfortunately) before him. Except this is a little difficult to do when he can see Karofsky in the corner of his eye.

"Why do you gotta be such a bitch, anyway?" Karofsky says after a while, his words barely a mumble, but in the relatively dead silence between them as Kurt has the commercials muted, it's heard all too clearly.

Kurt twitches, his fingers expressing his irritation prior to clenching into a fist. He snaps back, his eyes on Dave: "_Me? _Oh the contrary, Karofsky, you're the one who's bitchy. After being apart from you for months on end, I'm finally no longer terrified, but you? You're still scared shitless because of what you're hiding in your proverbial closet, and you constantly take it out on me."

Dave shoots a look in Kurt's direction. "What? That's bullshit. I was gonna come out to my parents on this trip, but you being here kind of ruined that. And I'm _not _scared, all right? I'm no scared of anything. I just know the facts and I actually pay attention to them, unlike you. And the facts are, Hummel, that no one in Lima likes gays, no one at McKinley would respect me anymore, and it's all not worth it. I'm better off by waiting and not flaunting my sexuality like you. It's personal anyway, so just _back off_." He glares, pointing a finger at the fashionista. He snatches up the remote, un-mutes the screen as the movie comes back on, and doesn't spare a glance at Kurt's facial expression.

Kurt, meanwhile, has an odd look on his face, something torn between surprised, dawning with realization, and miffed. He settles for realization, and makes a move take the remote back, since he wants at least some of the control around here.

After a short while, Kurt tries as mildly as possible, "You were going to come out to your parents?"

Dave resists rolling his eyes. He turns his gaze to Kurt's face, which beholds nothing. It's carefully masked, and that makes this easier. "Yes," Dave sighs, his own face still tight with emotion. "I figured this would be a good time, since they'd be chill, their heads clear, up here in the mountains on a vacation. And we'd be alone, without much distraction, or we'd at least be apart from the strangers I thought we'd be meeting here for me to tell them. I don't know. It was kind of a half-baked plan. But it was a plan, you know? Something I had to make me feel better about what I've finally acknowledged about myself ever since your stupid friends in New Directions sang that Lady Gaga song, the one about being born a certain way."

Kurt nods a few times in understanding. Maybe Karofsky isn't entirely bad, then; he at least is not as much of a monster as Kurt originally thought. The other boy is human enough to see his error and want to make up for it. He knows that he has to stop denying his sexuality and tell someone, and that's always the first step.

"I'm glad you told me this," Kurt says reluctantly, "Even if you did it to prove me wrong and did it do defensively. Because you know what, Karofsky? Part of me is actually happy for you. I'm glad that even someone as messed up as you are can figured things out. But would you mind leaving me out of it? Because I still hate you for all that you did to me, and I don't give a rat's ass what you do with your life."

"Well _sorry, _Fancy; I didn't mean to drag you into my woes or whatever. I just thought you should know that I'm not as much of an asshole as you make me out to be," he barks back as he tears his gaze away. He hates how he does this to himself whenever Kurt is near: he argues with the other boy and says awful things and sometimes even hurts him, and yet, at the same time, Dave feels this intense attraction and affection for the other boy but gets frustrated because he can't act on any of it, so he only becomes more of a dick. And it's downright stupid, but he can't help it.

"Actually, I think you _are _just as much of an asshole as I make you out to be, and for your information, I'm not the bitch you claim I am. I'm only this way around you. But, hello? I have every right to be this way! You're cruel to me, so I have every right to defend myself," he hisses, trying to keep his voice quiet for the people sleeping upstairs.

Dave goes to say something, but he ends up biting his tongue and holding it back. Kurt has a point, and they both know it.

"Well, here's some food for thought, then: maybe I don't want to be much of an asshole anymore," Dave begins shortly, but not without sincerity. "Maybe I want to start being better. It gets boring being the same badass bully all the time. And after being slushied myself once, I haven't done it since because I realize how much it can sting. And, you know, I actually do want to be with somebody some day. I get lonely, too. So get, I figure, if I just own up to being, um, _one of you, _and start being nicer to people, it'll happen."

"So what, you want to start by being nicer to me on this trip, or something to that similar effect?" Kurt remarks cautiously, skeptically.

"Um, yeah? Isn't that obvious? I know we won't be best friends or anything; that'd be dumb. I just want us to get along or tolerate each other. No more of this fighting-and-ignoring bullshit, like we've been doing for the past couple days since we got here," Dave answers as simply as he's able, and with a minimal amount of heat in his tone.

Kurt seems to contemplate this, and finally, he shrugs in agreement. "Sure, fine. I can do that. I'll say 'hi' or 'good morning' when appropriate, and I'll try not to complain or protest if we wind up doing some of the same activities later on. And you can do the same. It seems reasonable."

"Exactly. That's all I'm asking for, Hummel: civility."

"I'm surprised you know that word," Kurt says, but there's a smirk on his lips.

"Hey, I go to school, too; I pick up phrases like, 'being civil' or 'civility.' I read," Dave retorts a bit childishly. "Now can we go back to watching the movie? I totally missed what happened for the past, like, twenty minutes."

"Of course we can," Kurt murmurs in response, then promptly shuts up. And as it happens, they both wind up falling asleep during the second movie being played on that particular TV channel, and when they family members find them in the morning, the two are positioned foot to foot, their heads on either end of the couch, their bodies curled up on their sides.


	3. Part III: Keep Meeting Like This

_Part III: Keep Meeting Like This  
_

Four days later, they run into each other again. They were doing pretty well at only seeing one another in the cabin and saying brief greetings, but now Kurt and Dave were thrust into the same activity together.

_Ice skating._

Dave simply tosses a puck back and forth with some guy vacationing from Arkansas whom he met not half an hour before Kurt shows up. And Kurt purposely finds a girl figure skating by herself and joins her, lifting and throwing her when need be, acting like a nearly professional pair together.

Irritated, Dave feels the need to compete; to show who's better off without whom and who's new friend is more talented than whose. Somehow, Kurt catches on, and becomes just as competitive.

It ends poorly.

Dave winds up accidentally smacking his drilling partner with his hockey stick, and Kurt winds up accidentally tripping over and falling on top of his skating partner. The hockey boy and skating girl get annoyed and leave, the girl making a curt excuse and the guy saying something along the lines of, "well fuck this."

Sighing, Dave sits on a bench, removes his helmet, and sighs as he runs a gloves hand through his hair.

Kurt sits down beside him, and after a short sigh of his own, he starts _laughing. _

"That was utterly ridiculous; what were we thinking?" Kurt remarks, glancing over at Dave and flashing a small smile, one lingering from his laughter. It drops as soon as he spies the expression on the other boy's face. "What's up with you?"

"I totally blew that. I don't even know why I did it." He looks… defeated.

Kurt cocks his head at his former bully. "Well don't beat yourself up about it; it was just us being enemies again, I suppose. Unless… you were jealous?" And he seems doubtful and amused at the same time over this thought.

Dave shrugs, glancing away. "Dunno why I would be. 'S not like I like you or anything or care if you skate with some girl. You don't even _like_ girls."

But his defensive tone says it all. Kurt's jaw hangs down for a lasting second. "Oh my Gaga, you _were _jealous!" he exclaims. He laughs a little again, and Dave reaches over and slaps Kurt lightly on the leg.

"Shut up, I was _not_!" he barks, and he scrambles to his feet and starts skating angrily away.

Smirking, Kurt doesn't let him get away. He easily catches up to Karofsky's strong strides and even goes as far as to skate in a half-circle to cut the hockey jock off.

Dave skids on the ice, spraying flakes at the sides of his blades. "What the Hell, Hummel? Get outta my way!"

"Let's race. And if I win, I'll drop whatever weird thing happened just now, as much as my pride wouldn't like me to. And if you win…" He lowers his voice to a whisper, "I'll let you kiss me again."

The oddest, most conflicted expression crosses Dave's facial features. It's a mesh of desire and disgust. He growls, "What makes you think I'd want that? Besides, I can't trust you; you would hate that and we both know it, so you're obviously trying to trigger me."

"You caught me," Kurt sighs, and he's being honest. "I wouldn't let you. That's how confident I am in winning. But that doesn't mean you can't _try_. Especially since you're so keen on being competitive against me all the time. So let's race, Neanderthal." And with that, Kurt spins on his heel and races down the length of the ice rink.

"Oh no, you don't!" Dave roars after him, a smirk of his own consuming his features. He flies after Kurt, and within moments, they're neck-and-neck. "You're a… pretty good… skater," Dave admits between lunges.

"Thank… you," Kurt pants, also lunging with all his might to try and maintain his lead. But Dave is gaining fast, even moving in front of him here and there.

All at once, they run out of room, and half a second before Dave, Kurt makes it to the edge.

"Ha! Told you… I'd… win," Kurt breathlessly laughs, and Dave simply scowls in reply. Kurt smiles, looking over Dave's not-as-angry-as-he-seems appearance. "Aww, now I feel bad; you wanted to kiss me, didn't you?"

"Shut the… fuck up, Hummel," Dave pants, because, truthfully, he didn't. Not this time. This time, he just wanted to know what would happen if he proved the ever-confident Kurt Hummel wrong. But it seems it wasn't meant to be. So he stands up straight, glides back to the bench to retrieve his helmet, and leaves the rink.

Kurt stares after Dave, frowning curiously, before making it a point not to care as much. Instead, he shrugs and lets it go. It's nothing. Racing, winning, losing, jealousy, competition; it's nothing. Almost normal. And as unrealistic as it feels to interact with Karofsky as easily as he has been lately, Kurt shrugs it off and moves on, because it's only the atmosphere of being on vacation and the mutuality of being nonchalant toward someone you haven't seen in months that's making them act like this.

Of course that's all it is. Why would it be anything greater than simply that?

_XXX_

"Hey, Kurt, is there something up with you?" Finn wants to know the day after Kurt came home in an odd mood from skating.

Kurt shrugs and tries to bush it off. "No, nothing at all. I'm fine."

It's usually a lie when someone says that they're fine, but in this case, it's simply a manner of masking Kurt's uncertainty. He honestly has no idea how he feels about much of anything, because merely a few days ago, he hated Karofsky's guts. But after getting inside the other boy's head a little, and after reflecting on it a bit and beginning to see Karofsky as just another person with troubles, it's difficult to go back or even begin to assert his feelings on the matter. So he just goes with being "fine."

"Oh, um. Okay. If you say so," Finn replies, giving a parroted shrug. He helps Kurt fix brunch, since everyone seems to love to sleep in relatively late and eat together before going his or her separate ways for the day. Lacey and Carole have already visited the spa twice since arrival, and dads seem to be enjoying the skiing and rec hall bar and lounge.

Kurt's planning on going out on the town today, preferably with Carole in tow if he can. He isn't much for the sporty stuff (aside from ice skating), and he'd rather shop than hang around the cabin for hours on end or wander the games and things in the main recreational building.

Once she's up and about, Kurt approaches Carole with the shopping idea.

"I'm sorry, honey; as much as I'd love to, I promised Lacey that we'd both try our hands at skiing today. The only thing I know about it is 'pizza' and 'French fry,' but I think with Lacey's and an instructor's help, I can get the hang of it. But hey, don't look so blue, Kurt; you can always take one of the boys with you. Finn might like to look around, and if not, aren't you getting along better with David?"

"Carole, _please," _Kurt returns with a roll of his eyes. "You and I both know that Finn doesn't like shopping, especially not the way I do it. And… no. Karofsky and I are barely tolerating each other, I think. We had a moment or two, but… nothing remarkable."

"Too bad; he could use a friend like you, after what Lacey has been telling me," Carole murmurs distractedly, and Kurt frowns at her as she mentions that she'll talk to him later and then vanishes to go get ready for her ski trip with her new friend.

"A friend like me?" Kurt murmurs under his breath as he heads for his room, "Don't tell me his mother figured it out before he could tell her? That doesn't seem right. He's not like me; I was so obvious that even someone like my dad figured it out. But his mom…? I doubt it. Maybe they mean a model student or something?"

He shakes his head and waves the thought aside. It'll have to wait; for right now, he needs to pick out an epic outfit and a matching pea coat to wear into town today. If he's lucky, maybe he'll catch the eye of some gay mountain boy. _Mmm._

_XXX_

It isn't until Kurt's out for the day again that Dave realizes how little this trip means to him, now. He originally intended for this to be a break from everything, but what was there to break from? School was already out before Paul won the trip, and Dave isn't much of a winter sports guy save for hockey. So what is there to do? He doesn't even know what he wanted to do, because now all he can think about is how Hummel's here and they are completely enemies, and that is just enough hope for…

"What, exactly?" Dave frowns to himself. He doesn't like thinking about it. About feelings he knows he's been shoving down for months and months even before that stupid locker room incident occurred. And now? Now he's away from Lima, Ohio, and all of his behind-the-back-talking peers there (except Hudson, but Hudson's cool), and he has a chance to really _do _something, but he isn't sure what, nor why.

Why, that is, outside of the obvious, but again, Dave hates retreading that information.

Instead, Dave tries to avert his attention to some mindless activity or another. He winds up in the recreational center, playing air hockey with some kid (he looks like he's fifteen at the most) and getting something to eat before taking a dip in the indoor heated pool.

It feels nice to be able to swim in the summer, even if he's all the way out in Colorado. He almost missed the feeling, having not been to a pool since the previous summer break. It's soothing and head-clearing, and each stroke as he does a few laps helps remind Dave that everything is fluid and nothing is definite, and that suits him just fine, because going with the flow of things – his thoughts, emotions, actions, etcetera – is all he's ever done.

When he's finished, Dave dries himself off and puts his clothes again, wringing out his swimsuit and stuffing it in the duffel he'd been carrying with him. He glances at his watch; it's getting late. He should probably head back to the cabin.

He worries his bottom lip, though. What if everyone else is still out doing stuff but Kurt is back from shopping or whatever, and then Dave has to be alone with him again? He isn't sure what might happen. Last time they wound up getting competitive and weird around each other, and Dave honestly despises awkward tension. Hatred and anger in tension he can handle, and even sexual tension he can withstand, but anything uncomfortable and caught in a grey area? Count him out.

Sighing, Dave ignores his impending fret and simply treks out the door and walks the mile or so across the resort back to the open duplex cabin half-nestled in some thin woods. There's a light on, he notices, as he hauls his bag in through the door and shrugs off his coat. He had to unlock the door, too, but that tells nothing.

"Anyone here?" Dave calls out, finding the house oddly quiet.

Shrugging, Dave figures that no one must be, and he rolls his arm in his shoulder socket, not liking how he pulled a muscle while swimming. Or maybe his muscles are sore, unaccustomed to the action. Either way, he feels a little beat up, and if he wants to do some more snow mobiling tomorrow like he thought of doing while he was swimming, a dip in the hot tub to sooth his aching muscles sounds like a good idea.

Dave digs out his swim trunks again and shimmies into the wet fabric in the bathroom before whistling to himself as he enters the kitchen and throws back the boxed-in patio door. But as he steps out onto the concrete and slips into the bubbling water (which is odd; did someone leave the jets on by mistake?), he nearly screams when he feels someone beside him bolt upward.

"Holy shit!" Dave yelps, jumping sideways on the bench beneath the water as Kurt's eyes meet his. The shorter male had been soaking himself full-body in the hot tub, and only resurfaced to see who had joined him. Honestly, he hadn't expected (and had secretly hoped it wouldn't be) Dave to show up. "Dammit, Fancy, what do you think you're doing?"

"Same as you, I presume; trying to relax," Kurt retorts tightly, "But I suppose that's impossible, now."

"Damn straight. I'm out," Dave returns hotly, but as he yanks himself up out of the hot tub, his arms and shoulders scream in protest, strings of icy, stinging pain shooting up. "Ah! Fuck," he groans, and sinks back down. "Shit. I didn't realize I hurt myself swimming so hard."

"Is that all? Try having blistered feet from boots you thought fit properly, paired with agonizing Charlie-horse cramps in your calves from walking in the snow! Not to mention my aching thighs," Kurt grumbles, reclining back in the hot tub a good five feet or so away. He sighs. "Not that you care. Me being in pain is probably a normal thought in your head."

"Hey, I didn't mean to actually _hurt _you that badly when I shoved you into lockers, okay?" Dave replies lowly, reluctantly. Secretly, he only shoved Kurt to yes, have an excuse to touch him without being suspicious, but mostly to get Kurt to _notice _him. Pathetic, Dave knows, but that doesn't stop it from being true.

"What did you expect would happen? You shove people, they hit metal, and it _leaves_ _bruises._ Did you learn _nothing_ in physics class?" Kurt responds icily.

Dave snorts and glances away. "Whatever, Hummel. You threw yourself, being the drama queen that you are. And for your information, I'm actually in _AP _Physics. AP History, too. I can get god grades in stuff if I wanna, and for a while, I did. Er, well, enough to be put in the Advanced Placement courses, anyway. Not that _you _care whether or not I'm actually smart. To you, I'm probably the same dumb jock as everyone else."

"Yes, actually, you are! Dumb not in academics, perhaps, if what you just said is at all true – because I doubt it, since I don't trust your word at all – but in common sense? I think you're quite slow in that particular area. Common sense dictates that when you push people, they will get hurt. Common sense dictates that if someone isn't kissing you back, you don't move in for seconds. And common sense dictates that if you like someone, you don't bully them!" Kurt snaps, and the rant is fast-paced and almost lost entirely on Dave's only half-listening ears (he doesn't always like listening to what Kurt has to say to him when Kurt's angry, because when Kurt's angry, he tends to insult, and often).

But the final two examples of "common sense according to Kurt Hummel" strike a nerve. It doesn't help that Dave recently thought about that mistake again just today, and it really doesn't help that Kurt is the one who's bringing it up this time, unlike that day in the hallway where Dave brought it up since it was nagging at him.

The athlete gapes at Kurt for a moment, his lips parted and his eyes staring. But then he comes back to himself and looks away, his jaw clicking shut. Licking his lips, he replies in a threatening growl, "I don't need to be lectured by you, Hummel. I know that I mess up a lot and make a shitload of mistakes, so I don't need to hear them come from _you!_ I don't need them rubbed in when I've already rehashed them over and over on my own," he hisses, and tries again to get out of the steaming water, but he fails again as another cramp reminds him that he needs to rest and relax and not get so hyped up over the boy across the Jacuzzi from him.

Kurt's face hardens, but doesn't look malicious any longer. It looks more… contemplative. He makes a short humming noise and looks Dave over once before glancing out the windows at the scenery around the cabin patio.

"I'm sorry, the, Karofsky; I tend to neglect other's feelings in things. I should have realized that someone as closeted as you are would have low self-esteem in that regard."

"Shut up, I do not have low self-esteem! I'm David Karofsky, defensive player, blocker, _popular, _and I know who I am and where I stand, all right? One little setback hasn't ruined my self-esteem," Dave barks back, daring to shoot a glance Kurt's way.

Kurt sizes him up again, and this time, he can see it: the truth, the real Karofsky hidden behind this angry façade. He sighs heavily and folds his arms over his naked chest beneath the surface of the foamy water. Shaking his head, he relays with a careful tone:

"No, Karofsky. That 'setback' of your sexuality didn't hinder your _ego, _but your self-esteem is _extremely_ lacking. You _don't _know who you are, because every time you come close to finding it – that you're _gay _– you block it out and go on the defense much like the roles you play in your sport teams. You're just a hurting, confused, scared little boy, and even though I thought it was for different reasons before, I wasn't wrong. Bullies pick on others to make themselves feel better. They pick on people who reflect pieces of themselves that they don't like, or they pick on people they know are easy targets. I was both. And I actually pity you because of that."

His unpredicted speech other with, Kurt forces himself out of the hot tub – he feels better, now, more relaxed after exposing those issues and getting them out in the open where they can be processes and digested – and wraps his towel around himself to return inside the cabin. Right as Finn comes home with Burt and Paul in tow, in fact.

They greet Kurt in the kitchen, say a few words, and soon, Paul Karofsky is popping his head through the sliding glass door to speak to his son. "David, are you all right? You're out here all by yourself, and you have a vacant look on your face. Did something happen?"

Dave glances up at his father. He doesn't know what to say. Because while Kurt was talking, Dave heard nothing but the raw truth, and it wounded him. But beyond that, while Kurt was speaking… Dave wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. And normally the urge would piss him off, but in this moment, it almost feels… fitting.

"No, nothing happened, Dad. Everything's fine. I'm just… sore, that's all. Been working too hard the past coupl'a days," he answers swiftly, and finds himself actually able to rise from the water this time. He forces a half-smile as he wraps his own towel around himself and moves past his father into the cabin. "What's gonna be for dinner? I'm starving."

Paul sense that there's more to the tale than simply "nothing," but he lets it slide for now. In lieu of that, he offers a small smile of his own and explains that the wives should be back soon enough with groceries to make Ruben sandwiches.

"Sounds good," Dave remarks, eyeing Kurt in the corner of his eye before the pale boy leaves to get dressed again. "Sounds _great_."


	4. Part IV: Blamed For A Blizzard

**A/N: Wow! 75 alerts, really? And with 47 reviews and 27 favs, too! (lol lots of 7s...) You guys are so supportive, even for such a silly little ficlet! Thanks so much for rocking hardcore, guys. I mean it. ;D**

**Now enjoy this second-to-last part. It's longer than the others. X3**

* * *

_Part IV: Blamed for a Blizzard_

It's into the second week, now, and since that moment in the hot tub, Dave's made it a point to start avoiding Kurt. This is the second time this had happened, except the first time had been initiated by Kurt; but this time, the initiator is Dave, and he's a little irritated with himself for being such a coward about this (again).

But there's nothing he can do.

He needs time to think… and Kurt has always been the one person/thing that severed any thought processes, so in order for Dave to figure out what he needs to, he needs to be away from Kurt to do it.

It's messy and complicated and perplexing and weird, and Dave's head keeps getting riddled with random thoughts. Thoughts both self-deprecating and assuring, and it messes with Dave's head.

Except he _doesn't want to think about it._

So he distracts himself with this, that, and the other thing; anything to take his mind off of Kurt. And sexualities. And insecurities. And past blunders.

Instead, he goes out for snowboarding again, Finn with him, but that's when the clouds and wind roll in from the other side of the mountains, and the snow starts whipping down.

"Shit!" Finn hollers through the slicing sheets of snow. "We need to get inside soon! This could get worse!"

"Yeah, I agree!" Dave yells back over the howling win over his ear-warmer headband. He meets Finn at the bottom of the hill, and together, they fight through the sudden, increasing onslaught of snow and wind and somehow manage to make it back to the cabin.

"Where is everyone?" Finn wonders aloud as he wanders through the cabin, calling out names. "Burt? Mom? Mrs. Karofsky? Mrs. Karofsky? …Kurt?"

"I'm here," Kurt's voice answers from the top of the stairs.

Finn slides on the hardwood flooring in his fresh socks from the kitchen and peers up at the top landing. "Hey, buddy. Do you know where the parents are?"

Kurt sighs. "I think they were out running errands – getting supplies for this second week – when the blizzard hit."

"Blizzard? You mean this is an actual snowstorm and not, like, some minor little thing that'll blow over?" Dave exclaims, light fear lacing his tone. "Shit, shit, shit! We need to find our parents, need to –"

"Dave, dude, calm down," Finn says gently as he steps over to his friend and places a hand on his shoulder. "I'll go out and look for them, all right? And if it gets too bad out there, the five of us will find a place to stay. No worries, all right? This isn't the end of the world, it's just snow." He starts getting his gear back on. He glances up at Kurt, who's already down the stairs and cutting in front of Dave to stop Finn.

"No, Finn, don't do it! Have you no sense? Seriously, this could get ugly. You should stay indoors. Our parents have cell phones; we'll call them."

"No such luck," Dave interrupts, snapping his ancient flip phone shut. "Out of range. The only way to reach them if to get back in range and call again, but to do that, you'd have to leave the cabin and get to lower ground. Or something. Where ever the tower reaches to."

Kurt bites his lip and slams a fist into his other hand, his eyes on the rug in front of the door. "Dammit!" Kurt mutters, cursing a rare thing for him.

Finn takes the role of leader again and lays a hand on Kurt's shoulder this time. "Hey, it's okay. I'll find them and call the cabin's phone and tell you the details. It shouldn't be that bad." He looks over to Dave. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Uh, sure," Karofsky replies unsurely. They step off to the side, out of Kurt's range of hearing. Kurt folds his arms over his chest and looks away from the pair of them.

"Listen, Dave. I'm trusting you with Kurt, all right? I know you two don't get along easily, but lately when you aren't around each other, Kurt seems a little… I dunno, disappointed. I think he wants an apology or something from you, because I don't think he wants to two to be enemies. I'm not one-hundred percent sure of what goes on in his weird brain, but I think it'd help if you two got along more, you know? And since I'm leaving to find our parents and get them out of this storm, I trust you to be, y'know, _decent _to my stepbrother. Or else I'll kick your ass. All right?" Finn relays quickly and calmly, his tone utterly serious, but his facial expression open. Until the end, when he smiles lopsidedly. Typical.

Dave nods dumbly. "Oh, um, okay. Yeah, I can do that. And I'm about due for an apology to him anyway; it might be a way to break the tension or whatever," he grumbles, but he doesn't seem particularly upset only reluctant), and this satisfies Finn. "Although I doubt you could kick my ass, Hudson. Beat me up a little, but entirely whoop it? Unlikely."

Finn laughs at that. "Okay. Good. But yeah, I have a feeling I wouldn't be able to take you down without you getting a few in yourself," Finn smiles, and claps the shorter brunet on the shoulder before turning to Kurt. "I'm leaving now, okay? I'll see you guys later."

"Be safe, Finn," Kurt murmurs, utterly subdued for the moment.

Finn's brows come together and he looks a little mournful. "Come on, Kurt, cheer up; this isn't that bad. I'll be fine. And I'm sure our parents will be, too. Don't worry," he says, and he brings Kurt into a hug, and Kurt sniffles, but doesn't cry. He's too strong to cry, too prideful in front of Karofsky to cry, and generally too stressed to actually shed a tear at all. And Finn understands all of this, even without saying so.

"Take care, guys," Finn says with a smile as he pulls out of the hug and opens the door.

Second after the cold, snowy air rushes in, the door is slamming shut, the thick flakes are melting on the rug and wood, and Kurt is locking the cabin up behind his bundled-up stepbrother.

Kurt twirls on his heel and glares at Dave. "_You!_ Why didn't you offer to go yourself? Why did you let Finn go? He could freeze out there, or pass out in the snow and die, before he can even find our parents and tell them that _we're _okay, and –"

"Hummel! You're seriously going to sit here and blame me for a blizzard? Get a grip!" Dave barks, striding the leftover space between them and gripping those tense shoulders. He peers into Kurt's flushed, furious-without-reason face and watches his raises accusatory finger lower between them. The jock lowers his voice to a calm, soothing tone. "Hummel, I was just as scared and unsure as you were. And let's face it, I don't have the guts to go out there and find our parents. But Finn does. Have some faith in him; he'll make it. Besides, don't you hear it? He's using the snowmobile, which is a lot harder to crash than you think, so he won't pass out or freeze to death. He'll be _fine. _Finn's a strong guy."

Kurt's eyes are frantically searching Dave's, blue-green hazel and brown-green hazel pitted in a battle of stares. Dave loses as he releases Kurt's warm (but no longer tense) shoulders and takes a step back, his eyes downcast.

He sighs. "Look, Kurt. I know what you must think of me. But…" He glances up, "I want you to know that I'm sorry. And that I'm just a little lost, because this vacation isn't at all what I thought or wanted it to be, and I bet it's the same for you, too. And now we're both trapped in those cabin together, and there's a blizzard going on outside, and it fucking _sucks, _but it's happening, so we just gotta deal with it, all right?"

Kurt exhales shakily and nods his head slowly. "You're right. I hate to admit it, but you're absolutely right."

"Yeah, well. That doesn't make you wrong, you know," Dave murmurs. "I mean… the other day, when you said those things to me in the hot tub… you were absolutely right, too." He licks his lips nervously, suddenly hyperaware of the short distance between their bodies. He takes another step back. "I've been going about everything the wrong way. And for that, too, I'm sorry."

"You should be," Kurt replies, but it isn't said with triumph or sarcasm or anything negative. It's said softly, purposefully. "Because you keep disappointing me, Karofsky. I keep thinking that you're changing, or that I keep seeing something in you that I don't mind or even like the tiniest bit, but right afterward you piss me off again. Why do you keep sabotaging yourself when it comes to me? If you gave me reason, I could return those feelings I know you have for me."

Dave ignores the last bit – he doesn't want to own up to that quite yet – and instead he wants to ask, 'what about your Dalton boy?' but he decides to avoid both altogether and gesture a hand toward the fireplace. "We should light a fire. We don't know if the power will go out or not."

"For once, you're thinking logically," Kurt says with an odd tone.

He swiftly moves over to the fireplace in the living room at the same time Dave does. Dave picks up some heavy logs of splintered wood and builds a tent. Kurt gathers up some loose papers and tucks them into the center. Dave grabs some matches, and Kurt blows the fire a little after Dave lights the paper. A fire roars into being soon enough, and Kurt flops down on the carpet in front of the flames as Dave goes around and conserves power by shutting off unnecessary lights and grabbing the cordless phone to keep nearby.

"Did you mean what you said?" Dave inquires quietly as he settles down onto the couch behind where Kurt is seated on the floor.

Kurt peers over his shoulder. He rolls his eyes. "Use your brain, Neanderthal: if I didn't, would I have said it?"

"I thought you liked your Dalton friend," Dave remarks.

"I did. And he and I dated for a while, but at prom, things… changed," Kurt says stiffly. "So forget it."

"But… how could you ever like me _at all?_ –Even as a _friend_? I was such an asshole to you," Dave answers lowly.

"People can change, and so can minds. Like I said, give me a reason, and I'll consider it. You've at least refrained from touching me at all except for a moment ago, and that tells me a lot," the soprano answers.

For a full minute, the athlete doesn't know what to say. Kurt returns his gaze to the fire, and a shiver runs down Dave's spine from the growing warmth radiating from the fireplace and the impending cold around them as the storm picks up into a howl outside.

The phone near Dave suddenly rings, startling both boys with a jump in their skins. "I got it," Dave mumbles, and scrambles to scoop up the cordless and press 'talk.' "Hello?"

"Dave? It's Finn. I found them. They were in town, halfway back to the resort when I got to them. Didn't take long, since I cut through the forest. But hey, we're going to head back into town and stay at a hotel for the night, okay? Tell Kurt. Or, wait, better yet, his dad wants to talk to him. Put him on, will ya?"

"Sure," Dave nods curtly, and leans forward to pass the phone to Kurt. "Here. Your dad wants to talk to you."

Kurt gives a confused look before taking the receiver and raising it to his ear. "Hello?"

There's some shuffling, some wind interference, and then his father's voice. "Son? Hey. How are you doing up there?"

"Fine, I guess. We started a fire in case the power went out. Are you guys okay?" and his voice is dripping with enough worry to stab at Dave's heart as he listens to Kurt's half of the conversation.

"A little cold, but we'll be warm and safe in a few minutes. We're in a cab right now, off to the nearest motel. Sucks to be spending money on a night's stay when we have two free weeks, but what're gonna do? And anyway, the Karofskys offered to pay for most of the cost, since they're not as tight financially as we are."

"Sorry about that, Dad; I know Dalton must have cost quite a bit," Kurt responds with a sigh.

"Hey, no. Don't say that; you know I'd rather have you safe and educated than worry about wasting money. 'It's all good,' as you kids say. But speaking of you kids… are you going to be all right? David's been nice enough to me since this vacation began, but he _is _the jerk who bullied you enough to transfer to Dalton Academy. Are you okay with being along with him until we can come home tomorrow, when the storm should be blown over?" Burt frets, his tone genuinely concerned. Kurt can even see the look on his face, in those green eyes.

Kurt smiles softly. "Yeah, don't worry. Karofsky will behave himself; and besides, it's been too long since he's bullied me, which makes me a lot less afraid of him. He's just a person like anyone else. I'll be fine."

"As long as you're sure, kiddo," Burt replies with not very well concealed skepticism. "Anyway, I'll check up on you later, as long as the phone lines stay up. I love you. Bye."

"Love you, too, Dad. Goodbye," Kurt answers, and just like that, they both hang up, most of the sickening worry instantly alleviated.

"What'd he say?" Dave wants to know immediately, ever self-conscious when he knows he's being talked about.

"Nothing. Just that they're staying at a motel, your parents are covering most of the cost, and my dad wants to know if I'll be okay with my former bully. And I assured him that the bullying _is _former, and that things will be fine. Because they will be." He pauses, nibbling on his bottom lip a bit as he sets the phone aside. He glances up. "Right?"

"What? Of course it will be fine. I mean. It's only snow…" Dave mutters in riposte, but he isn't positive. "Um. Right?"

"I don't know! I mean, I've heard of places like New York and Chicago getting hit with snowstorms, but Ohio never had it that bad. At least, not in Lima while _I _was growing up, as far as I can recall; so what do we do in a situation like this? Just… wait it out?" Kurt rambles, getting to his feet again.

"Yeah, I think that's all we can do," Dave reassures in as firm of a tone as he's able to form, given his own emotional state. He clears his throat to prevent any voice breaking. He stands up. "Um… why don't we make something warm to drink, watch a movie or something, and get our minds off of it? The night and storm will pass soon enough and then we can put this disaster behind us," he offers, trying to be the voice of reason.

Kurt nods slowly. "Yes. Sure. That… sounds like a grand idea."

"I'll make some cocoa. Or do you like tea better? Or coffee? God, I don't even know what you drink, Hummel."

Kurt smiles minutely. "Coffee is fine. I'll add my own fixatives to it, so just make a small pot. I'll see if there's anything on TV."

"Yeah, okay," Dave replies, and moves into the kitchen to start his task. For himself, he makes some cocoa; coffee is nice and all, but he's a little childish when it comes to sweets, and he definitely wouldn't mind some comfort right now, something familiar like his mother's homemade hot chocolate.

Bringing out two mugs, a small bottle of cream, and some sugar in a Tupperware with a tiny spoon out on a plate (to act as a serving tray), Dave sits down on the cough beside Kurt and places the tray down on the coffee table.

"Um, here. This one's yours. If you want more, there's at least another full cup in the pot in the kitchen. And, um. Uh. I found this little syrup thingy; is it to flavor your coffee?" he asks, producing it from his pocket (it wouldn't fit on the plate).

"Yes, thank you. It's my special mix of extracts and cornsyrup that I made myself for my coffees at home. It's a bit like the sort you see at the Lima Bean, except mine is a combo of all my favorite flavors: vanilla, hazelnut, and cinnamon. It tastes really good together," the singer explains as he pours some of the mixture into his mug and, with a half-spoonful of sugar and a quick dollop of cream, he swirls the sugar spoon around in the mug to complete the beverage. He takes a careful sip after some blowing and makes a hum of approval. "Mm. Perfect."

"…You are so weird, Kurt," Dave harrumphs, but sinks back into the cough cushions and slurps his hot cocoa as if he doesn't mind.

Kurt flashes a grin. "Yes, well. You could get used to me like I can get used to you, I suppose," he hints, but Dave doesn't catch his drift straight away. When he does, however, his ears go red.

"Look, Hummel, I'm not seeking some relationship with you –"

"No? I thought you might pursue precisely that. In fact, I thought that's why you decided to play house by making me something to drink and bringing it out here," Kurt remarks, but his tone isn't bitter or critical; it's calculated and teasing in equal parts, and it leaves Dave both flustered and confounded.

"I… I wasn't 'playing house!' That sounds gay!" he says defensively, reeling back and setting down his mug with a clank on the glass table, his cocoa spilling over the tiniest bit. "Shit." He instinctively licks it off his fingers, not noticing how Kurt's eyes follow the movement.

Kurt blinks and refocuses his gaze on Karofsky's mildly embarrassed face. "Gay of which you and I both _are, _David, as much as you'd like to deny it. But weren't you going to come out to your parents? This could be a great start. Say it now, to me. Say, 'Yes, Kurt, this is utterly gay because _I _am gay.' Go ahead. Say it. I triple dog-_dare_ you."

Dave snorts, his eyes rolling. "Seriously? Did you just _dog-dare_ me? What are you, _eight?_"

"_Say it_, Karofsky!" Kurt yells, getting to his feet.

"You're ridiculous! I am _not_ saying that!" he yells back, shaking his head and standing as well.

"Why are you being such a coward? I'm no one dangerous. And there's no one else here, or within a mile or so, to hear you! So why can't you say it? Why can't you admit something so simple as to what your sexuality is?" Kurt retorts, his face inches from Dave's.

"_Because,_ Hummel: it's not widely accepted and I _want _to be accepted, okay? I'm like every other fucking teenager out there: I want to be _liked. _And being a homo isn't liked very much by most of the world, now, is it? It's progressed, I'll give you that, but it's not the same. It's still a fucking sin or whatever, according to everyone else. And I don't want to be that. I don't want the label tacked onto me, at least not now. Not in high school. My parents? I'll tell them because they raised me and they love me. But you? Why should I say it to _you_?" Dave rants heatedly, flailing his hands out to the sides as he leans in toward Kurt.

"Because –" Kurt's about to explain (and give some lame reasons since he actually doesn't know why Karofsky should come out to him more than he already had by kissing him before), but he's cut off but a gasp. A gasp Kurt makes as soon as the lights go out, the buzz of the television on behind them doing dead silent.

The room goes dark, and only the fireplace keeps everything semi-illuminated. The wind practically screeches outside, and the windows show the definition of a white-out. The air is still between the two arguing teens, and suddenly, Kurt loses all his pent-up anger and rocks back from the balls of his feet to rest on his heels. He exhales slowly, shakily.

"The power's out."

Kurt rolls his eyes and sits back down on the couch. "Yes, Karofsky. Thank you for stating the obvious."

"Yeah, but… how will we hear from our families?" Dave mutters, plopping back down on the cough rather laboriously, as if so much being tossed back and forth has rendered him emotionally drained.

"I guess we can't, now. Our cell phones don't work. So we're even more stuck until the power comes back on. And it's going to get cold if it doesn't come back on soon. I'm glad you thought of the fire. And the drinks," Kurt adds, reaching forward for his coffee again.

"I have my moments, I guess," Dave mumbles. He rubs a hand through his hair and licks his lips. "Um. Sorry for yelling at you."

"Yes, well. I didn't necessarily give you a reason not to. I sort of attacked you," the other admits. "Sorry about that."

"But I was being a dick again. So you kind of had the right to. I overreact," he murmurs, and he doesn't quite understand how they can be acting so calm and civil simply because of a power outage, but it could be because of their hopeless situation or because they're tired of fighting, but whatever the reason, Dave welcomes the shift in dynamic. It's… nice, being with Kurt like this, talking easily, being honest and open and apologetic.

Kurt smiles wryly. "So do I. And hey, are we actually getting along right now?"

"Heh, my thoughts exactly," Dave huffs without humor. "Weird. But we are."

The soprano glances up at the jock. "I understand your hesitance, by the way. I was at that point once. But after a few things happened with Mercedes and football in sophomore year… I don't know, but I was ready to come out and say it to people – er, pun not intended. Still, you know what I'm saying."

And he does. He nods deftly around a gulp of hot cocoa. "…Yeah," he confesses softly, "I know what you're saying. But I'm just… _not _ready, Kurt. I want to be like you and just get it over with, but how can I, and when? I don't know what'll happen. Guys like you… they come off as gay immediately, no offense. It's just the way you dress, and talk, and walk, and act… people assume you're into dicks and not chicks. But me? I'm the opposite. Everything I do and how I look and what I say comes off as _straight_. And people are fine with that, because in their minds, it works. It fits. The way you and I appear… it _makes sense_. How can I change that?"

Kurt gapes at Dave for a moment, not at all realizing from past experiences that Karofsky could have thought everything out this far, could be this philosophical about his sexual orientation and society in general. But… in and of itself, that entire miniature speech… it _makes sense,_ too.

"I guess I never thought about it that way," Kurt mutters as he averts his gaze to the blaze feet away. A slight shiver runs through him as the lack of fresh heat coming from the vents starts to sink in. He hugs himself loosely for warmth. "I'm sorry. I never thought to put myself in your shoes like that. You have a point. But, Dave… wouldn't you want to be the bold individual who shatters the stereotype? Wouldn't you like to be more of a man than any hater out there and stand up and say, 'I'm here and I'm queer?' It would make a big impact in a positive way, I'm sure."

The jock shakes his head sadly. "Not right now. Not in high school where everything is a scandal and every scandal is an opportunity for gossip. I don't want any bad stuff hanging over my head during my senior year; I just want to go to class, pass, and graduate. I want to get out of Lima. And then, who knows? Maybe I will do that, _be _that. But right now? No."

Kurt looks at Karofsky – _really _takes a look at him – and sees it: the potential, the internal acceptance, the churning mental gears, the logic. And he nods, because he understands.

"Okay. Okay, Dave. But what about being a jerk? You going to stop that for your senior year, too?"

Dave chuckles humorlessly. "_Duh,_ of course. Why would I even bother any more? Not after all of this," and he gestures around himself at Kurt, their conversation, the cabin, this vacation, and this summer in general.

The soprano smiles. "Well, good. At least I know I can stop worrying about getting bruises on my shoulders and back from the lockers."

The other winces. "Uh, yeah… about that. Sorry."

Kurt waves it aside. "Nothing you can do about it now. But… thank you. All these apologies? They're giving me reasons to hate you less, Karofsky."

"And you even called me 'Dave' a few times," he points out with a light smirk. "I'd call that progress, Fancy."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Again with that nickname?"

"What? I like it. It's actually a compliment, if you think about it. Now, uh, we better drink our cocoa and stuff before it gets cold. And find some blankets; it's getting fucking freezing in here, and _fast."_

"Agreed," the singer nods once as he brings his mug to his lips. "Nose goes." And he touches a fingertip to his nose. "Oops, looks like you have to scrounge for blankets."

"Sneaky prick," Dave grumbles, but inwardly he isn't complaining as he stands up and chugs the remainder of his cocoa before setting the empty mug down. He wipes his mouth and starts to walk off, right as Kurt is giggling to himself over his little childish trick. "But if I only find one, guess what?" he calls over his shoulder.

Kurt half turns his head in Dave's exiting direction. "…What?" he hollers back, quirking a brow.

Dave grins to himself as he heads up the stairs to the extra linens closet. "It's mine, and _I'm not sharing._ Two can play at this game, Fancy!"

"…Uhg, what? _Asshole_!"

And Dave just snickers.


	5. Part V: Final Resolve

_Part V: Final Resolve_

There wound up being only one fuzzy-soft spare blanket in the linen closet, and for added warmth, the boys had to resort to removing the comforters on their beds. They brought down their pillows as well, because there was no way they were leaving the fireplace front to sleep for the night; it would be too cold up in their beds.

The cabin was still and dark and quiet, and after about an hour, every last scrap of heat rose from the first story of the cabin, and the living room became the solely heated place, thanks to the fireplace. They could see their breath in just about every other part of the cabin. And without the furnace working, there was no hot water. But the gas stove works if they use matches to light the gas (the sparks being electric), and so they're able to continue making warm beverages as the hours pass.

"It's almost nine," Kurt remarks idly. "And I have a feeling I won't get to sleep any time soon. And I'm _bored. _My iPod ran out of power."

"That's because you've been listening to it almost nonstop for a while now, singing to yourself. It was amusing, but kinda selfish of you. I'm just glad my iPod had enough juice left in it to preoccupy myself for a while when you were off doing your own thing," Dave grunts, shrugging. He snuggles down into the blankets around his shoulders and scoots closer to the fireplace. "Shit. I think I need to replenish the wood supply soon. But that means I'll have to go into the ice-cold storage room in back. Dammit."

"Oh, _boo-hoo._ It'll only be cold for a few seconds and then you can come back to the warmth of the fire. Be a man, Karofsky," Kurt teases, his tone lighter than what it normally would be.

Dave whines. "Yeah, but I don't wanna move! I'm plenty comfy right here."

"You'll be less 'comfy' when the fire goes out, so get a move on, you big lug," Kurt replies, leaning over and freeing his hands from the confines of his own comforter to shove Dave to his feet.

"Fine, fine; I'm going, I'm going," Dave mutters, but he's secretly a little glad that Kurt initiated any sort of contact.

He shuffles into the entryway, gets on his shoes, and makes his way to the back hallway of the lower level of the cabin to open the door to a garage-like, cement-floored storage room. Icy-cold dry air tightens the skin on Dave's face and hands, and he shivers uncontrollably for a moment. Breathing out puffs of white, he quickly scampers over to the pile of wood, gathers a bunch in his hands a bit blindly, and quickly slams the door shut with his foot as he fast-walks back into the living room.

"Shit, shit, shit! That's so fucking cold!" he yelps, plopping down beside Kurt again and tosses the logs down into the metal rack where the singular leftover log rests.

"Can you at least try to control your language?" Kurt frowns. "You swear constantly, and I'm pretty sure your vocabulary is broader than that, given what you told me earlier about being in AP-level classes."

"I never said I was in AP English, though," David points out. "And besides, they're only words. Yeah, they sound sorta ugly, but they aren't going to bite. Lighten up, Hummel."

Kurt sighs. "Whatever." He glances away, careful not to watch Dave get into his blanket again, and acts like it's nothing when he reaches over and throws the fuzzy cream blanket from the closet over both of their laps. "To stay warmer," he mutters, and continues to keep his eyes away from Dave's face as he adds, "Want to play a verbal game? Something to keep us busy in this pathetic, technology-lacking situation?"

"…Um, I guess so? But you're not going to dare me to do weird things, are you?" the jock remarks suspiciously.

"Prada, no! I was going to suggest Twenty Questions, Two-Truths-And-A-Lie, or Would-You-Rather. A bit childish, admittedly, but it'll help us get to know each other better, and pass the time, and, well, it could be good for a laugh. You game?" Kurt answers, finally looking the other boy's way.

Dave grins cockily. "I'm game for whatever you can dish out, Hummel," he answers. "Let's do this. Would-You-Rather first. G'head and ask me something."

Kurt thinks for a moment, his hand on his mouth, a finger tapping his lips. "Hmm," he hums productively, "Okay. I've got one. Would you rather eat a bowl full of fried cockroaches or a bowl full of live earthworms?"

"Ah, man, that's disgusting!" Dave replies, laughing. "But I'll take the roaches, man. At least they're cooked."

"I would have taken the worms myself. The slime would probably go down easier; I wouldn't have to chew as much," Kurt ponders, smiling lightly. "Your turn."

"All right… would you rather, uh… have a giraffe you were feeding at the zoo spit up on your new shoes, or… have a shark bite a finger off while you were swimming in the ocean?" Dave says, purposely poking fun at Kurt's obsession with fashion.

"What? Of course I'd rather lose a finger! Although I would _never _wear new shoes to somewhere as filthy as a zoo. But still, this is all hypothetical, so… the finger. I still have nine more," Kurt shrugs.

"Dude, you're so messed up. You value shoes more than your own appendages? I mean, like… you can buy new shoes. You can't grow back a finger," Dave chuckles, bewildered a little.

"True, and getting giraffe-vomited shoes would hurt less, but, still… I like my shoes," Kurt returns meekly. "Anyway, it's my turn, and this time, I'm getting personal. Would you rather get a slushie in the face but have a boyfriend, or continue to lie about your sexuality and be boyfriend-less?"

"Now that's just fuckin' cruel, Kurt," Dave frowns, looking away. Biting his lip a little, his voice comes out shakily, "But… if I really could choose… I'd take the slushie facial and boyfriend combo. At least… at least slushies are permanent pains. It's just a moment of cold and some eye-burning-ness and then nothing, but lying… that's a long time."

Kurt leans in a little. "Then why don't you try for that, Karofsky? You might or might not even get a slushie in the face, but if you came out, you could have a boyfriend."

Dave snorts and glances back. "Yeah, right. Like who? The only gays I even know exist in Lima are you and your friend, and, okay, Santana Lopez, but I was talking about guys."

Kurt ignores the response, swallowing thickly. "It's your turn. Feel free to be just as cruel and ask something personal as well."

"I will, thanks. I like payback," the jock retorts. He exhales. "So. Would you rather…" He wants to ask, 'date me or your Dalton friend?' But Kurt already said that things had ended, for the most part, with Blaine after prom, and Dave isn't sure if my wants to elaborate on what's going on here. So, instead, he asks listlessly, "Have a guy who loves you unconditionally, but is a _jerk_, or have a guy who doesn't quite _love_ you, but is really sweet? – This is actually a question I saw in a Would-You-Rather book at the bookstore once, when I was flipping through it. It seems like a good argument."

Kurt's brows meet in the middle as his mouth straightens into a line. This question… it sounds like it's a choice between Dave and Blaine. And as much as Kurt has lingering sentiments for Blaine… Dave is different. Kurt _sees _the athlete differently. And it makes the option seem… simpler.

"I'd rather have someone who loves me," Kurt says finally, softly. His face heats up minutely. "I mean… I like romance. It's cheesy, I know, but I do. I want… chemistry, and love, and all the things you would probably hear coming from a girl, so before you make a witty remark about how girly I am, Karofsky, I'll spare you the trouble and admit that yeah, it sounds stupid."

"…I wasn't going to say that it sounds stupid," Dave mumbles. He clears his throat and says louder, "Uh, that is… I agree. I probably come off as the sort who would screw someone without feelings attached, but really, that isn't me. I would probably end up hiding my feelings, but that doesn't mean I didn't have them. I'd want them in a relationship, 'cause otherwise it wouldn't mean anything, and what's the point in that?" he says firmly, and he dares to look Kurt directly in the eye.

Kurt feels something tremble within him, something like his resolve or his heart speeding up or maybe even his stomach churning, but the sensation is too quick for him to decipher which it is. Instead, he lets the feeling subside and pass, and he wets his dry lips in the frigid air as he scoots closer to the fire, incidentally closer to his former bully, and tries not to think about it in too much detail.

"That surprisingly sweet of you," Kurt whispers. "You're right; I wouldn't expect that."

"Well, you know," Dave mumbles, "People hold all sorts of surprises in them. 'Secrets' is the better-known term for it." He pauses, his eyes drifting to the dancing flames licking around the logs of wood. He draws his blanket tighter around himself. "And I probably have more of them than a lot of people."

"Why is that?" Kurt challenges, but not quite as defiantly as he had intended. It comes out sounding more curious than anything. "Why do you keep so much of yourself locked away?"

"Because it's _easier,_" David answers tensely. "It's easier to pretend I'm a dumb jock, and it's easier to feel better about myself when I make someone else feel like how I do inside, and it's easier to come off as no one memorable or worthy of too much attention or inspection when I'm just an asshole no one likes. It's easier to deny that I sometimes watch musicals and old black and whites with my mom; it's easier to call someone a homo instead of myself; it's easier to play sports and get lost in the physicality of it all than get up on stand with all the confidence in the world and sing or dance. It's just… easier. It's not as simple, because sometimes it gets messy covering up what I really want all the time, but it's _easier._"

Kurt stares at Dave with the same awe he had before, the same feeling of newfound respect and understanding he had when they were talking before in the Jacuzzi.

"You look like you're about to cry, Karofsky," Kurt says gently, and leans over to peer into Dave's face.

Dave abruptly turns his head. "What? No way. The cold's just getting to me, that's all. Look, this weird situation means I opened up to you, sure, but don't think that means you can go tell Hudson all about what a big fucking pussy I am inside. If he knew, he'd pro'lly tell Puckerman, and we both know the dude would spill it to everybody. So what I just told you stays between us, got it? No one needs to know, not even my parents, 'cause if I want them to know, I'll tell them myself. Got it?" he threatens mildly, handling this better than he had the kiss all those months ago.

"Y-yeah, I've got it," Kurt murmurs, looking away. "Thanks for telling me, though. I don't know why, but you seem to trust me."

Dave snorts. "Trust. I hate that word and everything it stands for. Just what is trust, anyway? I don't get it. And I dunno if it's trust or if I just know you'll understand, but there isn't a deeper meaning to me telling you this shit."

"Yes there is," Kurt argues, and he looks at the other boy directly. "And you can pretend all you want that there isn't, but the fact remains that there is _plenty_ of deeper meaning going on here."

"What makes you say that?" Dave comments testily, his chin lifting slightly.

"You like to forget, David, but you _did _kiss me. Passionately, I might add," Kurt reminds sharply, his eyes cutting through any thoughts Dave might have had.

Dave stiffens. "I never forget," he returns hotly, even more tense. He blinks a few times and finds an interesting spot in the fireplaces to stare at instead of looking into Kurt's lightly flushing face.

"I should have guessed," Kurt responds gingerly, moving in ever still, to the point where their knees are touching and he has his hand on the carpet between them. "But you know, it was earth-shattering for both of us, in different ways. I was shocked that the guys I hated, the guy who kept harassing me, actually was similar to me, and might even _like _me. And you… I can only _imagine_ how it was for you."

Dave doesn't say anything. He simply stares into Kurt's face, into his eyes, questioning without words, his mouth slightly gaping.

"Dave," Kurt adds as an afterthought, his tone slightly reprimanding, but mostly muted. "If there ever was a time to kiss me again, now would be it."

And so he does. He shakes off any reserves he has and outright kisses Kurt, cupping his face and leaning in and being purposely slower and more careful this time around. The fire to his left is warm, baking him from the outside in, and Kurt is tepid in comparison under his hands, but it's a welcome temperature, and Dave can't believe that he can feel this again; all of it, from Kurt's lips on his, Kurt's hair at his fingertips, Kurt's skin under his palm.

And Kurt is responding, his hands clenching to the front of Dave's blanket, his mouth moving as much in sync with the taller boy's as he's capable of. And he feels warm and welcome and _nice, _not at all rushed or sloppy or desperate as he remembers it being months and months ago.

When they part for air, it's Kurt that whimpers a little this time, and when Dave move sin for a second his, his hands falling to the floor on either side of Kurt's pretzeled legs as he leans over on all fours to thoroughly explore Kurt's mouth with his tongue, he isn't rejected. Kurt plays along almost eagerly, and Dave isn't sure if this is a one-time thing or not, isn't sure what this means, but he likes it a great deal. No, scratch that, he _loves _it.

And he will come out to his parents and the whole damn school and take ten slushies to the face if it means that he can do this anytime he wants by dating Kurt. He would, and will, and _can._

_XXX_

The power returns to the cabin at about six in the morning, while the two boys are still asleep, passed out head to head, curled up on their sides in a bundle of blankets on the carpeted floor in front of the hearth of the fireplace.

Their families return at around nine thirty, and when they find the boys on opposite sides asleep again (but this time actually seeming to have been talking to one another), the mothers in particular smile, and Paul Karofsky frowns a little but shrugs it off, not really minding all that much. It at least means that the two have been getting along.

"Kurt? …Hey, Kurt?" Finn says, shaking his stepbrother's shoulder. He reaches over and shakes Dave's as well. "You too, Karofsky. Come on, guys; wake up. We're back. Storm's over."

"That's true in more than one sense of the word," Kurt groans as he rolls over onto his back and stretches out his muscles, sore from sleeping on a surfaced stiffer than a bed. He yawns loudly and rubs one eye to wake up before yanking Finn down into a hug. "I'm so glad you're all safe."

"And we're glad you didn't freeze to death without power for hours on end!" Carole says, getting down on the floor to huge Kurt as well.

David, meanwhile, grumbles something incoherent before scrambling messily to his feet. He hugs his parents briefly before shuffling into the bathroom to do his morning business. When he returns, everyone is much more awake and already getting some breakfast together. It's just after ten o'clock.

"How did you two do while we were held up by the storm? You seemed like you must've gotten along," Lacey says ever so discreetly as the two families sit down at the kitchen table for pancakes and bacon, some of the supplies among the groceries they bought back with them from their outing the previous day.

"Oh, uh, y'know," Dave begins around a peanut-butter slathered bite, his mouth sticking together, "Listened to our iPods. Played those verbal time-wasting games like Twenty Questions. Uh. And…" made out furiously before chatting it up some more with their likes and dislikes, and then kissing more before they could help themselves; except he can't say _that, _and especially not in front of Finn (_and_ Kurt's parents)_._ So he improvises: "Told ghost stories?"

Kurt face-palms, his hand making an audible connection with his forehead. But he recovers quickly and says around a sip of milk, "Yes, that's exactly what we did."

"Oh, all right. That's good. I was just curious, since your generation is so reliant on technology and electricity that I wondered what it would be like if you didn't have it readily available, and couldn't leave the cabin," Lacey shrugs. She holds up the plate of bacon. "More, Davey?"

And the rest of the breakfast conversation is relatively normal. And so is the remainder of the day as they try to regular their vacation schedules again and see which activities are open again and which are still recovering from the sudden Rocky Mountain summer snowstorm.

Over the course of the next few days, everyone gets pretty busy getting out his or her final kicks before the week is out. Dave and Kurt wind up spending quite a bit of time together, unbeknownst to their family members.

Kurt is getting a little annoyed, however. Around another attempt at a kiss, He shoves Dave gently backward and eyes him. "Is this a summer fling, or do you plan on dating me, David?" he demands to know.

Karofsky worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment. "Um. Would you be okay with dating me? I mean, what would your parents think? Or any of your friends? To most of them, I'm like the worst choice possible for you."

The soprano cocks his head and brings a hand up to fiddle with the curls on the back of Dave's head; he's let his hair grow out quite a bit lately, enough that it falls into his forehead more than before and flips out in front of his ears and at the nape of his neck.

Kurt considers it for a second, and then shrugs as he awkwardly drops his hand. "My parents wouldn't mind after seeing how civil you've been on this trip. Finn might even support it. But my friends? Ouch. You have a point there. But some of them, I think, only want me happy."

"And… would you be happy with me?" Dave frowns, sounding torn between being insecure and childishly daring.

"If you continue to act like how you have been the past couple days, then… yes, I honestly think I could be," Kurt shrugs, sounding casual, but Dave knows that there's more to it than that. "Except," he adds sternly, looking Karofsky in the eye, "You'd have to come out to more than just your parents, because there is no way I'm going to have a boyfriend and not be able to tell people or be open about it in school just to spite everyone," he smirks. A boyfriend or girlfriend is the biggest accessory someone can wear, because who you're with makes a statement. And beyond this shallow reason, it also takes a stand. And Kurt truly believes that he could fall in love with someone like David, and that things could change for the better if they rose up against everyone else's perceptions _together. _

It could be like the ultimate fairy tale: mutual disliking, secret liking, angst, humor, irony, redemption, and togetherness. _True romance. _

And this is something Kurt knows he wants, and he wants it with this person in front of him.

"So are you in or not?" the singer asks, trying to hide his overly hopefulness from his tone.

Dave nods once, curtly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm in. I want that. I think, after all of this… I can do it, you know? Especially if you're there with me, backing me up. And I bet Hudson could back me up, too. And it wouldn't be so bad, I don't think." Because he actually loves Kurt; quite a lot, but he'd never admit to it; he would only confess to just a smidge. But it's real love, in that teenager-y way.

"Good," Kurt confirms. He leans forward. "You can kiss me now, by the way."

The jock smiles, and then they're back to their usual lip-locking, this time the locale being a subtle spot in the nearly empty lounge of the recreational center building of the resort.

_XXX_

The night before it's time to leave for the plane ride home, Dave gathers up all the courage he can muster and approaches his parents the one time they're alone, the four Hummel-Hudsons out for one last night on the ski lodge.

"Um, uh… Mom? Dad?" Dave mumbles, shifting back and forth on his feet, not looking directly at them as he sways his arms and occasionally snaps or pounds his fingers or hands together. "I, uh… need to tell you something. It's… pretty important."

"What is it, David?" Paul wants to know as he sets down the novel he'd been reading. Lacey glances up from the television and mutes it when she sees the look on her son's face.

"I don't want to beat it around the bush," he says in a rush, "So I'll just say it: I'm… I'm a, uh… ho- gay. I'm gay, Mom 'n' Dad."

Paul removes his reading glasses and stares at his son for a full moment, his expression vacant. Lacey smiles softly.

"Oh, I figured as much," she says soothingly, standing up and continuing to smile. She runs her thumb over her son's cheek and leans in to hug him. "I figured it out when you never brought any girls around after your sophomore year and when you got expelled temporarily for harassing Kurt, the only gay boy I know of at your school. Coincidences like that clue people like me in pretty quickly," she laughs lightheartedly, and pulls out of the hug, her hand that had been rubbing circles on his back stilling in place between his shoulders. "Sweetie, I will always love you, no matter who you choose to, um, consort with. It doesn't matter to me because you're my son and you'll always be the same boy I've always known."

Dave actually starts to cry, the tears slipping down his face at the utter acceptance he hadn't expected to come from anyone, especially not his mother.

"You're… y-you're not disappointed in me at all? Or disgusted?" Dave mutters.

Lacey Karofsky shakes her head firmly. She takes on a serious expression. "Now you listen here, David Isaac Karofsky: while part of me admittedly wanted grandkids from you, I know that there's always the option of adoption and I know that the world is changing and homosexuality is progressively becoming more common in the sense that gays are feeling more and more comfortable to be themselves openly without too much ridicule. And because of that, sweetie, I'm not disappointed, and I'm not disgusted. You're my _son. _Anything you do or say could never make me think less of you." She grins. "Well, unless you brutally, purposely murdered somebody. Then I might be just a teeny bit disgusted and disappointed."

Dave laughs and shakes his head, wiping his tears away. "…Thanks, Mom. I…" He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly as he goes on, "I really needed to hear something like that from one of you. Or anyone, really. You wouldn't believe it, but… I was scared shitless."

She nods imperceptibly. "You looked like it. But you don't need to fear someone as tiny as me, do you? Besides, like I keep reminding you, I'm your _mother! _I birthed you, dear, and that makes you closer to me than anyone, and don't you forget it." She glances back at where her husband sits in the single recliner in the living room of the cabin. "And you! Paul, why haven't you said anything? Get over here and tell your son that you love him and that it doesn't matter what the Hell his sexuality is, because he needs to hear it, and I need to know you believe it."

Paul clears his throat, nods once, and stands, setting his book aside. He comes over to Dave and gives him a quick, strong, fatherly embrace, the sort that involves the little pat on the back and ruffle of the hair and everything. "David, I'm glad you told us. I'm sorry I didn't react sooner, but… I was a little startled. I didn't see it coming. You seem so… well, different than Kurt. I didn't think… But you know what? It doesn't matter. I'm proud of you for telling us. That shows real trust and respect, and for that, I'm glad."

Dave doesn't want to cry again, so he swallows and blinks and nods, not trusting his voice to say anything.

"Great speech, by the way, Lace. It made me think," Paul remarks as he turns away and picks up his book again. He glances at his family and allows a rare smile to grace his beard-ringed mouth.

"It better have. Heaven knows having a conservative, Right Wing, strict father like you has made him terrified of coming out, even to _me. _You've said before how you don't support gay marriage, and we've had fights about it, since I'm so very Left Wing. Tell me why, again, we got married when our political standpoints are so opposite?" Lacey remarks, and she's half-serious and half-teasing, and her hand is squeezing her son's hand in comfort before she returns to the couch. She sighs, shrugs, and leans backward into the cushions. "I'm just messing with you, Paul; don't give me that look. Still, you see my point."

"And a very valid point it is," Mr. Karofsky agrees placidly. "And in regards to being that way… I apologize if it ever intimidated you, son. I didn't know, obviously. And if I had… I wouldn't have said any of it."

"But you still would have thought it, wouldn't you've?" Dave retorts irately, and his mother shoots him a look. He tries again. "Sorry. You know I get defensive. I didn't mean to snap at you, Dad."

"I know, son. I know," Paul answers lowly. He sighs. "I think I hear the Hummels coming in. Let's leave this conversation for a later time, all right?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it again," Dave responds thickly. He can indeed hear the other family reentering the cabin. He half-turns and says over his shoulder, "I said all I needed to. I know you guys still care, and that's all I was worried about. So… thanks, I guess." And he marches off for his room up on the right half of the second level.

Meanwhile, Kurt is glancing at the Karofskys' right faces, and he knows that Dave must have told them like he said he would when he spoke with Kurt before his family left for a while. He wonders how things went, and he intends on asking his boyfriend later on. But in the meantime, Kurt focuses on removing his scarf and jacket.

"Um, Kurt?" Finn says, leaning in to whisper in Kurt's ear. "Is this a hickey?" he asks, poking the base of Kurt's neck on the side, above his right collarbone.

Kurt stiffens and winces all at once. "H-huh? Oh, um… that. I uh, I-I –"

Finn chuckles. "Man, you suck at lying. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Um… uh, not here. Upstairs?" Kurt hisses, gesturing a thumb in their parents' direction as the pair join the other couple in the living room.

"Oh, sure. Here, just let me get my shoes of… Okay. Let's go," Finn agrees easily, and follows Kurt up the left set of stairs.

Once in their shared bedroom of the cabin, Kurt spills hastily, "Dave and I got really close over this vacation, so now we kind of decided to date, and Dave's actually gay."

Finn blinks as he tries to sort out the jumbled words. Once he does, his confused/lost face eases as his brows relax and understanding washes over him. His mouth forms a little 'o' shape before he nods slowly, his head bobbing up and down. "Oh, um… okay… Yeah, okay. I can see that, actually. I mean, every time I brought you up while you were at Dalton, Karofsky kind of tensed up and got all mad, and I never knew why. Thought he hated you. But I guess… yeah, this makes sense, too, in a really bizarre way." He smiles lopsidedly the way he does. "I'm cool with it, bro. You can tell him that. And does he want it to be a secret? 'Cause I can keep it, I swear."

"I know you can, Finn. You're good with secrets," Kurt says with a roll of his eyes, thinking vaguely of Quinn only a couple months ago. "And anyway, we're not going to be secret, we're just… waiting for the right moment to tell the people who matter. And as for our senior year… well, we'll just play it natural and see what happens with the general population."

"That sounds like a plan. And if anything bad comes up, you have me and the whole Glee Club behind both of you," Finn says with a smile. "'Cause I got your back, remember? Like I said at the wedding."

Kurt smiles fondly at the memory. "Yes, Finn, I remember," he whispers, and Finn smiles broader, standing up and opening his arms.

"C'mere, you," Finn laughs lightly. "I know you're probably still a bit hung up on Blaine – I mean, you didn't exactly have the best mood for the two-or-so weeks before coming up here," he says, letting his stepbrother fall into his arms like a seat buckle clicking into place.

They've had a lot more moments like these since prom, when everything fell apart for both of them, and all they had was each other. Quinn using him, Rachel being Rachel, and everything getting so tangled. They understood each other, especially after some of the things Blaine pulled that Kurt should have expected, since Blaine can be… well, impulsive and wishy-washy. And while Kurt didn't mind Blaine's flaws, not minding can only go so far before things get out of hand and one begins to mind a great deal.

"I know," Kurt sighs as he closes his eyes and leans his head against Finn's chest. Finn always smells clean like plain Dove soap, and always vaguely of maple. And he's always so much warmer than Kurt is. It's nice to have him as a brother; it's even better, in some ways, than having him as an unrequited crush like before. "Thanks for being here, Finn. For both of us. When I first saw you being friendly with Dave when he joined you guys during Thriller, I admittedly was a little taken aback and offended; he was still my bully then. But now I see that you two being friends like you are… it works out. It helped him, and in return, helped me. So… thanks for being you, I suppose," he smiles with a type of nameless irony.

Finn chuckles, the rumble reaching Kurt's ears against Finn's chest before the actual sound does. They pull out of the embrace at the same time, smiling for different reasons, and Kurt feels a lot better about himself and the situation.

"Come on, let's get packing. We still haven't yet, and we have to catch a place tomorrow!" the Frankenteen suggests enthusiastically.

"On the contrary, Finn: _I _am already packed. I have been since yesterday, because I know how to plan ahead. _You _have to pack still," the soprano ridicules with a smirk.

Finn scratches the back of his head meekly. "Um, isn't it the same thing? You usually pack for me or help me out, so…"

Kurt laughs. "Yeah, okay. You've got me there, stepbrother-dear." He shakes his head sassily. With a dramatic sigh, he wanders over to Finn's suitcase and starts folding clothes into it. "Well don't just stand there; get your bag of dirty clothes, check the washer and dryer downstairs for your stuff, and let's get a move on!"

_XXX_

"It's time to say goodbye," Kurt mutters grumpily. "This is horrid. I have summer school courses set up for this coming week and the two other weeks following it for extra courses I want to get out of the way – namely gym – to free up my schedule for next year. But this means I won't see you for a while." He pouts. "I feel like I'm only starting to really get to know you."

Dave rolls his eyes and squeezes Kurt's hands in his between them. "Stop being such a drama queen, Fancy. The weeks will fly by, I'll be busy helping out my mom at work to earn some extra cash anyway, and we have _cell phones _with unlimited texting. So suck it up and don't stress your pretty little perfectly-hairstyled head about it." He grins and muses Kurt's hair, succeeding in annoying the shorter teen.

"Gee, thanks, Dave. You make me feel so much better about our star-crossed situation," he huffs sarcastically as he bats Dave's hand away, drops the other, and uses both of his own hands to fix his hair. With a final run over his gelled bangs, he smiles. "But… you have a point. I suppose I can withstand the time apart, since it's not like I love you yet."

The jock scowls. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Kurt smirks, lifting his nose into the air slightly. "Nothing. Goodbye for now, David Karofsky. I'll see you soon."

Brushing it off, Dave nods grimly. "Yeah… see you soon, Kurt." And his face takes on an almost tragic expression for the briefest of milliseconds, and then it's gone. He leans down, pecks Kurt on the cheek, and spins on his heel to catch up to his family at the airport gate (they've been through all the security checkpoints already). He doesn't even care that Kurt isn't on the same plane, or that Kurt's parents saw the entire display, or that his own folks are eyeing him suspiciously as they ask him why he took so long.

He doesn't care, because this wound up being the absolute best vacation of his life, and he knows that no matter what comes to pass, he has this trip and Kurt Hummel. And that's fucking _enough, _in his reformed opinion.

_Finite._


End file.
